Alice and Us
by JackOwens1860
Summary: One-shot. Bruce and Dick doing some late-night Father/Son bonding amidst the backdrop of the library and Bruce's first-edition of Alice in Wonderland. Bruce's POV. Something to break me back into this realm gently. Enjoy.


**Author's Note: One-shot. Bruce and Dick doing some late-night Father/Son bonding amidst the backdrop of the library and Bruce's first-edition of Alice in Wonderland. Bruce's POV.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Alice and Us**

 **Bruce**

"Bruce?"

I open my eyes and find the boy hunched in front of my armchair. I must have fallen asleep whilst reading. I would be embarrassed if my impromptu nap had been so pleasant an experience. I adjust my posture so I am once again sat up straight and take the splayed book from off my chest. Dick grins at me as I stifle a yawn. "Good nap, huh?" He remarks straightening up himself. I smile.

"Very much so. How was your evening?" I ask resting the book on the arm of the chair before checking my watch: it is almost ten-thirty. He is home early.

"It was really great, thank you. Got to be honest, when I came back, I walked right past you for the cave entrance. I figured you'd be working on the investigation with Mad Hatter." The boy admits inviting himself to sit on the footstool just to my left. He has changed into his pyjamas, I note. Evidently, he is expecting a prolonged conversation between us.

"No need. Commissioner Gordon had a tip from one of his best informants on Tetch's safehouse. Owing to its accuracy, the GCPD apprehended him this evening, shortly before I planned to head into the city. They are remarkably efficient with Arkham's roster these days." I explain with what I can only describe as contentment. Batman is not the only thing keeping this city afloat. Its police are also doing their part as well. Dick looks suitably impressed.

"That's awesome news. So, you had a night-off too, huh?"

"I did. However, I imagine my evening pales in comparison to yours. May I assume you are now going to tell me all about it in finite detail?" I inquire, already knowing the answer. The boy rolls his eyes and smirks.

"Well, duh. How else does it work with us? Okay, so, we got to the bowling alley just after six..."

Dick's narrative swallows up an hour and eight minutes. Considering this is roughly thirty percent of the total time he spent outside the house, and the relatively tight structure of his storytelling abilities, he did have a memorable night. Although it begins in the same fashion as every other Dick Grayson story – a contest of skill that he decimates his competition in – it soon becomes more interesting when the action graduates to the skating rink.

Apparently, this evening, for the first time I have heard, the boy was not perfect on his blades. In fact, he describes himself as being as graceful as a cow on the ice instead of the typical athlete he is. It is hard to imagine him being poor at any sporting discipline, but I try to picture the scene. Because of this sudden fragility, his female friends were around him the whole time, helping him skate. I can tell how much he enjoyed this part of the evening from his tone and body language alone. However, he then spends almost fifteen minutes telling me how much he enjoyed it. He does not descend into vulgarity, but I feel like I get far too much information about his personal feelings on the matter.

But the skating rink activities are still not the concluding chapter of his escapades. After this, there was sufficient time left for them to 'hang out' in the park. I do not ask what this entails, but he answers as if I had. In some effort to redeem his credentials, the boy showboated his athleticism in the skate park halfpipe. He says he wore a helmet, as if that would placate me, and only performed basic turns and flips. When he arrives at the point where he is pulled behind a tree by a girl named Alison Walker, I finally hold up a hand to stop him advancing any further.

"Try to keep some of your personal life to yourself, Dick. If you are that desperate to divulge your romantic entanglements, tell Alfred, not me." I tell him gently. He chuckles and scratches the back of his head.

"Sorry about that, big guy. When you're all relaxed like this, I kind of just...feel like I can tell you anything." He grins at me, displaying a smile I never tire of. "You didn't say a word, did you?"

"During your hour-long performance? No."

"An hour? Jeez. I didn't even have an intermission. I don't know how you're still awake."

"You're very entertaining. However, perhaps now is the time to not describe every thought that runs through your mind. Most of them...are not fit for company." I say, trying to be diplomatic.

He looks unconvinced. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"You described the individual shapes of Alison Walker and Melissa Whelks' breasts to me on three separate occasions during your story." I say. He looks insulted by what is a definite fact.

"No, I didn't!"

"Just because you referred to their 'chests' instead of using a more specific term, do not think that excuses you. Please remember that I am a grown-man: I have no interest whatsoever in the 'attributes' of fourteen-year-old girls or how they compare to one another."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't talk about..." He pauses to position of the blade of his hand in front of his waist, "the other half of them, did I?"

He did. He briefly touched upon the colour and design of Melissa's panties when she fell over. That, mercifully, was that. I shake my head. "No. You were...in check."

I can tell he does not believe me, but he smiles anyway. We both accept the boundaries between us are blurring. It is becoming obvious that his distinction between my role as his parent and his friend has shifted in recent months. He tells me things I would never have told Alfred at his age. "You know why I tell you everything going on in my life, right?"

"Because you have no filter?" I say with a smile of my own.

He shrugs. "Partly. But, it's mostly because I don't know when it's going to be the last time with you. You could disappear tomorrow...or you could die tomorrow. I don't want anything left unsaid between us if it does happen." He informs me. His smile is still in place but is struggling to stay put.

I know I can be terribly aloof. I also know that being honest about the dangers of our lifestyle is a double-edged sword when he feels so close to me. But I can't walk away. I can't leave Batman's shadow. Not anymore. I am in until the end.

But I also know what he needs right now. And it is not verbal assurance. Words on this topic generally mean nothing to him. I have to show my feelings on the matter instead of describing them. That much I have learned. I move my book from the armrest to the table beside it. I do not want it damaged. I gesture for him to come towards me for what is an inevitable hug. His smile strengthens in the wake of this invitation. He gets up from the footstool and then half slumps into my torso so I can close my arms around him. Once I have, I close my eyes. Nothing is left unsaid between us. Nothing.

A moment later, Dick is content enough to break the embrace before sitting in my lap so he can reach the book I was reading. It is my mother's first-edition copy of Alice in Wonderland. He has seen it many times during the past year. I have read it to him from cover-to-cover at least half-a-dozen times. He handles it with the same care and respect I do.

"How far did you get?" He asks slouching back against my left shoulder. I put my feet up on the footstool, taking his with me. I consider.

"Pig and Pepper."

"Wow, that's early for you." He comments softly flicking through the pages. I nod.

"I had a very long shower and a good dinner. Those were the highlights of my evening."

"I kind of wish you'd gone first now. I feel like I've said way too much." He says whilst slowly turning the pages of Pig and Pepper, "say when, okay?"

"When." I reply as I see the passage beginning ' _the cat only grinned when it saw Alice_ '. I hear the boy smirk.

"That's funny. This is my favourite part of the story."

"Is it?" I say, feigning incredulity. He nods and taps the page.

"Yeah. Hell of a coincidence, huh? Almost like you planned it."

"What could possibly be my motive?"

"I'm sure I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say you fell asleep after finishing the book, because it's a children's book and you can read it inside an hour, and then deliberately placed it on the table so I'd pick it up and get us to this point right now." He says to prove he almost grasps the inner workings of my mind. We look each other in the eye.

"That sounds very convoluted, Dick. Surely it would be easier to simply ask you if you wanted to read this book with me." I offer only for him to sneer at me.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that for a genius like you? And hey, after listening to me yammer on forever and then drop the feelings bomb on you, I feel like I owe you a favour. So, do you want me to read you a story tonight?" He asks as I decide to wrap my arms around his waist to prevent him from changing his mind on the matter. I smile.

"As long as you do not spoil me too much, Dick. I would hate to owe _you_ a favour."

"Yeah, don't want to sink too far in the red with me, big man. I get it. Okay then...are you sitting comfortably?" He checks holding the book upright on his chest.

"As much as one can be with a fourteen-year-old boy crushing them."

"I've seen you bench in the gym, Bruce. You warm up with almost twice my weight, then double that just so that paving slab you call a chest can feel something. Me? I'm like a pillow to you."

"That may be, but I still do not want you to feel uncomfortable if you believe this position inappropriate for a boy of your age."

"Relax. I won't tell anyone you like cuddling your kid if you don't tell my friends I like the same. Now, let's get started...ahem...'the cat only grinned when it saw Alice...'"

I am not a good parent. I never wanted the responsibility of raising a child, the hassle that comes with educating them. As such, my decision to adopt Dick was based on the idea that we would be friends and colleagues, but nothing beyond. We both thought we could be content with that arrangement. Then Harvey Dent and Judge Watkins arrived. The poor man's death, a combination of Dick's arrogance and my inability to curb it as his mentor, was a powder keg. I lost my temper in the worst way possible and Dick responded in kind by running away. The days following his disappearance were the worst of my life...bar none.

It is hard to believe these events that almost led to our mutual ruin happened only ten months ago. It is even harder for me to comprehend that I am never more comfortable and content than I am in quiet moments with him. I always believed I would burn the bridges between us long before we could cultivate a scenario like this, that he would grow to resent me after experiencing all my worst traits and qualities first-hand. Perhaps he still might. For now, though, it is enough to have this evening in his company.

Somehow, I have ended up reading the final chapters whilst Dick tucks his head under my chin and relaxes into a lazy embrace. I cannot recall how I took over his duties but do remember not minding being short-changed. He read almost four chapters without growing listless. It is something of a triumph, given his aversion to sustained reading of any variety. His own oral reports are sometimes a step too far for him to endure, Alfred says.

"Remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days." I say with my usual air of finality. I close the book and look down. Dick has his eyes closed and is breathing softly. Most would think him asleep. I know otherwise.

"It really does help, doesn't it?" The boy says without lifting his eyelids. I place the book back on the side table and ruffle his hair.

"With what?" I ask him.

"Remembering them, our folks. My mom must've read me that, a hundred times or more on the road. My dad probably managed half that. Sometimes, I can hear their voices when you read it. And, when I close my eyes, sometimes I can con myself in thinking I can hear their hearts beating in your chest. It's like...they're back here with me." He pushes off my torso and opens his eyes. "What about you? Do you get reminded of your parents when you hear or read it?"

"Only when I'm alone. If I'm with you, I only tend to think about you when I hear or read those words." I tell him honestly. He grins sheepishly.

"You make me sound selfish when you say stuff like that."

"Sometimes I think you deserve to be. You spend most of your time trying to please everybody else, you forget to indulge yourself." I say putting my hand atop of his and squeezing it. He smirks at me.

"I get that from you, the whole selfless superhero thing. It used to be from my folks, but now it's definitely you that makes me think of the whole world before myself. But, I'll try to be more of a typical teenage asshole. I promise." He replies patting my hand with his free hand. I return the favour by patting the top of his, safe in the knowledge the entire display looks very stupid.

"So long as you don't try too hard, that sounds like a good thing." I assure him before glancing at my watch. It is almost one in the morning. "We've indulged ourselves enough for one night. Time for bed." I add before casually scooping him into my arms and standing up. He does not look impressed with my show of strength.

"Down, now." He says. I throw high into the air and step back in time to witness him complete a somersault and land perfectly at my feet. He emits a deep sigh. "Once again, I'm not a cat that will always land on its feet. Just because you can throw me like one, doesn't mean you should, you giant freak." He snaps. I stifle a laugh and hold up a hand in apology.

"I apologise. Your spatial awareness is remarkably like a cat though. I never tire of seeing it."

"Just don't do it, please? Otherwise, when you're old and grey, I'll return the favour with interest and see how well you fall." He says, unable to sustain his bitterness for longer than a few seconds before grinning at me. "Damn that tuck was perfect though. I absolutely crushed it."

"Yes, you did. Shall we?"

We are ascending the stairs when I broach the question of patrols tomorrow night and if he wishes to accompany me in search of Tetch's bankroller. His immediate reply to guess it was Penguin supplying the money, a notion I am more than inclined to agree with. His second response is to state he would unequivocally love to join me on patrol, particularly if we get to smash through the Iceberg Lounge once again. We most definitely will.

"Hey, did you like me reading to you, big guy? Did I do, okay?" He asks when we arrive at his bedroom door to part ways for the night.

"It was the new highlight of my evening."

"Yeah? Knocked the shower off top spot?"

"Without question. If you ever feel like indulging me again, another reading would be encouraged."

"Sounds like you're getting a cheap birthday present this year then." He quips to which I sarcastically applaud. He takes a bow and moves inside the doorway. "See you at breakfast?"

"Only if you can get up before nine."

"I'm there. Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Dick."


End file.
